Oberon - Tumblr Posts
I want to hold Oberon
Merry Go Round of Le Fae, Part 2
I really like Oberon TIME TO SAVE IN ENG AND JP
Oberon for the lovley lovley @zenithzyl!
We've done some wild stuff with the feywild in our campaign (because it's technically still Ravenloft based) And by far my favorite design is Oberon!
No spoilers for whichlight or for the Carnival please! Even though we've strayed from canon, I still haven't seen alot of NPCS and locations yet. (like Yon)
The Tale of the Midsummer Maiden
Gather ‘round, ye children of men, believers, keepers of the faith from the olden days. Whether ye be man, woman, or child, brownie, kelpie, faun, nymph, spirit, or sprite, all are welcome by my fire to listen to my tale. But be forewarned. This is no playful yarn. The story I am about to tell you is a true one. It is a tale of true love, of radiant passion, of heart-wrenching loss, and a truly insidious revenge. If you’ve a pale constitution, it’s best ye turn yer head and close yer ears. For this, most curious patrons, is the tale of the Midsummer Maiden.
Long ago, in the time when the world was still young and the old magics ran above, below, and through every land and creature, two forces made to embody the powers that drove the night and the day in their eternal course finally chose to meet. The power of day took the form of a man, and the night a woman. Not content to merely remain a nameless pair of entities, the pair chose to name one another. The night named the day Oberon, and the day named the night Titania.
Their meetings were brief, for it was the duty of their magic to keep the heavens in motion and maintain the delicate balance that lay between the two. And so it was that twice a day, the two would descend for those few brief moments they could spend together. And as time passed, the two eventually came to call each other by other names: leannán, ceann daor, áilleacht, dathúil, grá amháin, stōr, muirnīn, and finally fear céile and bean chéile, or, being interpreted, husband and wife.
Time passed, and the two rulers gave rise to whole kingdoms of magic, governed by their rule, for their power was mighty, indeed, and few there were, if any, that dared to stand against it, who lived to tell the tale. Devoted followers swarmed in droves to offer food, sweets, incense, sacrifices dedicated to the mighty rulers. For a time, all was peaceful. All was happy.
But, like all married couples, this was not to last forever. They had their arguments, and all of nature heaved in those moments. Of greatest note was the dispute over an Indian child, the son of a most faithful adherent to the Queen of the Night, or perhaps the son of a mighty king stolen in the dead of night. Either side could be true, and there’s naught a mortal who knows the right of it. For who among our kind could have lived through those events and be here today to tell the tale?
In the end, the quarrel was settled, and the child taken from Titania’s grasp. What befell this child, no one can say, but in the tumult that followed, one rogue fae took her chance to lead others down the path of temptation, to join her in her own court, in the realms they claimed as their own. And so came the great division, and the birth of the Seelie and Unseelie. So came the birth of the Summer and Winter courts. And so came a new balance betwixt chaos and order, life and death, morality and lawlessness.
Eventually, Oberon and Titania came to their senses as man slowly began to forget the old magic and the splendors and dangers that lay in the land of the fae, the mythical Sidhe. The Christian God had come to hold sway in the hearts of mortal men. And with his coming came the desire to destroy all magic. For if one were to perform a miracle that was not of the power of the almighty, it was considered sacrilege, and one met a most gruesome end at the hands of voracious hunters. Witch, warlock, demon, familiar spirit. These were but a few of the titles invoked, forced onto others, until the magical races had no choice but to leave and close their borders to all save a few places.
It was during this time that Oberon and Titania brought forth their greatest joy, and here is where the hidden truth lies. For, you see, Titania had been with child, and at last, she delivered a beautiful boy. Oberon was filled with pride, Titania with the depth of love and affection only a mother could understand for the infant that had been born to them.
Ah, but poor, ignorant man would not allow this to pass. No. The Unseelie made sure of that. For they, like all fae, knew how to manipulate the hearts of mortals just as easily as any demon or evil spirit could. It was a simple matter to find a priest devout and zealous enough in his calling and tell him of the birth, of what it would mean for the old ways and the old magic, the threat it stood to make against the spreading of the faith, the chance to lead the precious flock into temptation.
And the priest, in his folly, listened and believed. He gathered his followers and called for the most faithful among them to enter into a perilous quest, the quest to save the soul of this faerie child, to raise him in the true faith, and to prevent the threat that the old magic posed. This also proved the opportune moment to teach the faeries just how painful their actions had been to innocent men and women for so many years, stealing their own babies to replace with one of their changelings.
Of course, to tell this to any of these mortal men would do nothing to inspire them to action. Quite the opposite, in fact. Man had long since left their faith in the old magics behind. And so, the priest conspired to lie, and he succeeded, telling them of the innocent child stolen away from home and family, of the need to save him from a terrible fate, raised by the murderers who had killed his parents and destroyed the home of his birth. Innocent blood cried out for justice, for vengeance, for rescue.
…
How could a man resist such a lie, when told by the very one he had trusted and loved for so many years?
The answer is simple. He couldn’t.
And so it was that the men stole into the faerie court with the aid of their supposed allies, the Unseelie, oblivious to the true import of their actions and the devastating consequences that would follow. They claimed the child, slaying the attendants with weapons of steel and of iron, forged by the will of man, imbued with their righteous indignation. I’ll not tell a lie. It was a slaughter, made all the more gruesome by how silently it was carried out.
And so it was that they absconded with the child, and brought it to the hands of the priest. From there, the boy was spirited away, “for his own protection.”
Oh, the folly of mortal men. What fools they were. What fools they still are. Ay, what fools we still are today. The rage and sorrow of the rulers rent the skies, and the world groaned and shook with the force of the imbalance that had come to pass. Titania was inconsolable, and Oberon, ever proud as the sun which he represented, refused to show any sign of weakness.
The two were never the same, nor was their marriage. Oberon lost his mirth. Titania lost her joy. And the Seelie Court lost its dawning light with the theft of the child. Titania would never concede to have another. To her, it would be the gravest of betrayals to her lost son, to simply replace him, like a discarded rag.
Knowing his love could not be whole, until the boy was found, Oberon spent more time away from his wife, searching high and low across the lands. But the mortals were clever, and they knew of ways to safeguard from a fearie’s prying eyes, even those of the great king and queen.
Years passed, and Titania wept, until tears of scarlet replaced the long-dried wells in her eyes. They watered the ground, and all the sacred forest trembled at the drops, for now the queen gave vent, not only to her sorrow, but the towering rage that had built within her. The moon hid its light, eclipsed in a mighty shadow, and the stars trembled and flickered in the heavens. It is said that the celestial dance halted as, for the first time in many a year, the deep magic stirred, and its stirring was as the East Wind, fueled by the raw emotion of a mother who had lost nearly all she held dear.
It is not entirely certain what happened, whether the blood merged with a spirit waiting to be given form, or simply gave life to a seed hidden among the many blades of grass, or perhaps something entirely different and unique. After all, the old magic is just that, very old, very ancient, and few, if any, remain that know its ways. All that is known for certain is that one moment, the moon failed to show its light. The next, it did, and a new maiden stood before the queen.
Her hair was a beautiful coppery gold that rippled and flowed down to her waist. A garland of flowers hung around her neck, a mixture of roses, acacia, amaranth, jasmine, lilac, and aster, magnolia and mallow, balsam, and Narcissus, and so many more. Those that couldn’t fit round her neck lined the cuffs of her sleeves, the collar of her dress, the hemming at the bottom of her flowing gown, while a circlet of the more delicate flowers wove together around her head.
The moon’s rays reflected off the maiden’s dress and into her skin, leaving it fair and flawless, radiating the beauty of that precious light. And when she opened her eyes, the deepest blue radiated outward, almost hypnotically, with flecks of gray that allowed them to shift and change naturally to silver and purple, to green and to brown. Indeed, the maiden seemed to change in the eye of every member of the queen’s court to behold her, and her beauty was unearthly.
“What is the wish of my mistress?” she asked, and her voice was light, musical, and strong, one that pulled and teased at the ears, leaving one begging to hear more. Verily, the voice was enough even to draw the legendary puck, Sir Robin Goodfellow out from his place of hiding. For, in his absence, Oberon had requested his faithful servant watch over his beloved, and out of love for his master and friend, the Goodfellow agreed. He, too, mourned the child’s loss, for he wished to teach it all the ways of mischief and delightful merriment, how to bedazzle the eyes of mortals and snare them in harmless pranks. Well, mostly harmless. And yet, this new creature was enough to pull him from his sorrow for a time as his heart quickened and his bosom burned.
This was not lost to the eyes of the queen of the night. Nor was the effect the maid had on the other men of her court. The order flowed easily from her lips.
“Find my son, and let those mortals know what it is to have their own wrested from them. I will be avenged.”
“As my lady commands,” the maid replied. “But I fear I will only have the strength to venture into the world of men at midsummer. To remain there at any other time would kill me.” For, you see, midsummer was the time of her birth, and midsummer is a time when the old magic flows stronger in the world and passion runs wild in the hearts of men. To remain even a day after would surely destroy her, for she must have a steady supply of that ancient magic to sustain the spell that made her what she is.
“Then so be it,” Titania said. “Go forth and avenge me.”
The maiden obeyed. And so came the time that she ventured to the land of mortal men, guided by the queen’s love for her son and the hatred of her enemies. For you see, blood spilled in any way has power, especially so, if it is innocent or shed out of love as a willing sacrifice. And so it was that, like a dog, the maiden went forth to follow the path of the kidnappers with her magic. And so it was that she ventured into the county, where the parish lay and all the land was hushed and beautiful.
She went with her charms, and she claimed many a prize during her stay. The men were aflame with desire. Not even the priest was to be spared, and she toyed with them all most cruelly. She stole the priest’s virtue. She stole the women’s trust. She broke the men’s honor, all with an angel’s smile. Ah, and perhaps she was an angel, of a sort, an avenging angel bent on her task to right a terrible wrong and ensure that mortal men knew the pain of her mistress.
Ay, she led the young ones away next, the village boys aflame with passion and lust and the foibles of youth. It was a simple matter to stoke their pride and draw them to her. And each time, the maiden would test them. Each time, she would probe for that which she had been brought into being to find. And each time, she would fail to locate her true objective. So it was that the boys, especially the ones who lacked in faithfulness to their betrothed, met a gruesome end at the hands of the maiden, and mothers were left to weep their loss as the message written in their child’s blood spoke the demand of the faerie queen.
Return what you stole.
The men that knew the message’s true meaning turned to their priest for guidance and protection. They met in secret, as they had that night so many years ago, under the guise of a great visit from a higher dignitary of the church. After all, the priest that had incited their venture into the Sidhe was rewarded most handsomely for his dark deed, and now stood well above his peers in favor and stature, though not in true grace. They chose the crypt beneath the old church, a place where their discussions could go on unheard.
The men begged him to return the boy, lest all come to ruin and their loved ones be forever stricken. Naturally, the man refused.
“Have you forgotten what is at stake?” he demanded as he drew his formal robes and finery around him. “Have you forgotten your resolve to protect your home and kin from evil?”
“Evil has come, regardless!” one man cried. “Our children mourn, and our grandsires lay in their gore for the sake of the child you had us steal.”
The men murmured their agreement, but still, the former priest would not yield. “He is to be raised in the true faith and live as an honest man.”
And that was their greatest mistake.
“Honest. Honest?” The laughter that followed was cold, bitter, and cruel. “You men know nothing of honesty, nor of honor.” And there she stood in the midst of them, in all her unearthly beauty.
“Who are you, witch?” the priest spat.
“I am no witch, archbishop. Look upon me well. You know what I am. Indeed, you know better than any other here.” A silver dagger glinted in her hand as she stood proudly in her dress and gazed upon them with a cold indifference. “I smell the stink of Unseelie magics about you, archbishop. I hear the blood of the men who served so faithfully before you crying out for justice.” She leveled her blade. “It is on your hands, and your god will not save you from the wrath of justice, nor these mortals who aided you.”
She plucked a single rose from her bosom and threw it at the priest’s garb. With the sound of shattering glass, the spell that had given him the vision of grandeur and the magic that had laced his tongue with such eloquence and authority were broken. Blood pooled around the archbishop’s feet, staining the hems of his robes a deep crimson.
Then she threw more flowers, raining down upon the gathering, spattering tunics and vests with blood, as she had the archbishop.
“For the innocent lives taken to steal a child that was the future of the fae. For the rage of my mistress, the Queen of the Night.” Her eyes glowed in the still night air. “All of you shall pay the price for your wrongdoing. The geas that beguiled you is broken, but that is no excuse, for it was but a light cantrip, a whispering to make you more susceptible to his desires.” Her eyes narrowed as they began to glow crimson. “You had a choice.” Blood dripped from the dagger’s tip as the first of the men gasped and gurgled, looking down in utter shock at the metal jutting from his chest. “And you chose poorly. Let your god judge you for your actions. I am but the arbiter of my queen’s wrath.” She pulled the blade from the man and let him fall.
The events that followed are too gruesome to describe as the maiden wreaked her terrible vengeance upon the men, leaving the priest to the very last, so he could behold the blood that stood upon his conscience. She demanded the truth of him one last time, but the fearful man knew not the fate of the child, only that he had been spirited away, hidden beyond the maiden’s reach. And though he was afraid, hatred allowed one last, cruel smile. “You and all your damned kind will never find him,” he said.
“Never say never,” the maiden replied, then took his life.
It is said that as she left that place, her gown glowed the deepest crimson, and the children playing among the gravestones watched her passing. She looked to one of them, pointed and spoke in a terrible voice. “Mark ye this day, children of man. Know that my wrath is unending as my mission. Until the day that I find what was taken, and the lost is returned, I will not rest. You will tell the tale of what happened here this night. In prose, in lore, by word of mouth and song. Tell the tale, and let it spread as the fires in the fields. I am the Midsummer Maiden, and I will claim what is mine.
With that terrible geas pronounced upon the children, she left, trailing the blood of the dishonorable men in her wake. The mournful wails of the villagers soon followed behind.
To this day, the tale of her comings and goings echoes through time as a warning to young men. Therefore, be warned, if ere the wanderlust takes ye, and ye travel the roads alone in midsummer. For to this day, the Midsummer Maiden still hunts, and she will seek to test you, ere you reach journey’s end. Be watchful, therefore, and live honestly. For if’n ye mistreat her in any way, she will wreak her terrible vengeance, and the fate of the men of Midsummer County shall be your own.
So shall it ever be, till the day the lost child returns to the Sidhe.
I love the vibes he's giving. Such a dork but with a deep and dark undertone! Why aren't there any more headcanons and fanfics about him T.T!
Mahoutsukai no Yome
Oberon
| 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣✰*ೃ
Every year anew...!
Let's have fun
If you to know the bunch of last year click here
"Choose 5 Servants to represent your FGO journey."
Inspired by this Reddit post
Emiya - My first 4-star from the tutorial gacha. He currently rests at NP3. I may not use him all the time, but he's reliable. His defense-ignoring NP is awesome for challenge quests even to this day!
Shuten-Douji - My first 5-star. I didn't even realize she was a 5-star when I first summoned her, but when I did, I was incredibly excited! Koyanskaya of Light may have taken my top Assassin spot lately, but Shuten is still great.
David - One of my top Servants back when I didn't have as many options. Harp of Healing saved me tons of times back in Arc 1, and the Sure Hit on his NP definitely helped with damage!
Scáthach-Skađi - My first foray into meta setups. I only rolled for her because I liked her design, but her being the Quick meta was an appreciated bonus. I may have Castoria, Tamamo, Oberon, and Koyanskaya now, but Skađi still has a place in my support roster for when I'd rather use Quick Servants.
Passionlip - I got her to NP5 (and Suzuka Gozen to NP6) in the process of trying to summon Meltryllis. I did get Melt and absolutely adore her, but I also came to really appreciate Lip. She's a great tank who can also dish out a surprising amount of damage, and she's a fairly complex character. This same summon/appreciate cycle happened to me with Space Ishtar (NP2'd her while trying to summon Calamity Jane) and Baobhan Sith (NP3'd her while trying to summon Barghest and Mélusine), but Passionlip was the first, so she gets the spot on the list.
Man, this was tough! Nitocris didn't even land on the list after all this consideration, and she's my favorite!
What about you guys? If you play FGO, which five Servants reflect your gameplay journey?
Meraviglia.
It was 21th September 2021.
On 13th July 2023, I finally got the whole squad.
Just Mordred is missing.
Me, September 16th, 2021: Nah, I don't like Fate that much. I play Grand Order because the game is fun!
*Camelot Movie blu-ray get released*
*There is various characters in the banners*
Meh, I have Sigfried np3 and Artoria, I don't need another Saber. But there is Leonardo Da Vinci! I could try for her.
*rolls and gets Bedivere*
Ah. He seems to be the protagonist, well he is 3 star, I will keep him there.
*goes doing mission so can get more quartz. Tries out Gawain as support*
nice buster.
*pulls for Gawain. Get Medusa Lancer on last day of banner.*
*grows obsessed with Gawain and the round table*
*has Bedivere lv70 with np3*
*has Lancelot Berserker lv80 np5*
*still hopes every gold Archer is Tristan but it's just Atalanta and Emiya*
*hopes to find Saber Lancelot*
*hopes to find Percival but still not farming nor saving for him*
*wants to Grail Gawain and has material for enhancing his skill at 9 and doesn't use them on other Servants*
*throw 900 quartz in Castoria banner. No Castoria, no Rounds, just 5★ CEs*
Welcome to my gatcha hell.
Guda: I'm a generally forgiving person-
[Oberon hands them a box of void dust for Valentine's.]
Guda: But it's on SIGHT, BITCH.
“Let the water settle; you will see the moon and stars mirrored in your being.”
— Rumi
Oberon - King of the Fairies and Tír na nÓg
Oberon (オベロン) - Mahoutsukai no Yome - Episode 6
So... I was looking at some of the early designs for Belos, and what seems to have the “name” that was originally going to be uses, that name being “Obron.” Which when said out loud sounds really similar to how I’ve heard people pronounce the name Oberon. While I don’t know much about medieval literature and old folklore of the British Isles, Oberon is said to have been a king to the Fair Folk, and Oberon is said to have been cursed with dwarfish height.
So now I imagine that tiny bit of goop that splashed on Hunter’s shoulder near the end of King’s Tide is going to potentially take the form of Philip at half of his usual height while in the Human Realm.
When you realize that you DO have some sort of character preference:
I LOVE them!
Oberon! Quick sketch today ^^